


my hands no longer an afterthought

by procrastinatingbookworm



Series: Little Beast (Jonah Week 2020) [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Domesticity, Gender Dysphoria, M/M, Pet Names, Queer Themes, Trans Jonah Magnus, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:38:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24730165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/procrastinatingbookworm/pseuds/procrastinatingbookworm
Summary: “It’s so close.” Jonah said, trying to meet Barnabas’ eyes and not quite managing it. He reached past him, one hand grasping, reaching… “It’s so close, I’m so close to what I want, and…” his hand withdrew, settling to Barnabas’ hip. “And it’s just out of reach.”
Relationships: Barnabas Bennett/Jonah Magnus
Series: Little Beast (Jonah Week 2020) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1788130
Comments: 10
Kudos: 35
Collections: Jonah Magnus Week 2020





	my hands no longer an afterthought

“I wish I could stay here,” Jonah said. He didn’t expect Barnabas to answer—it wasn’t the first time he’d said it. 

It wasn’t even the first time he’d said it to Barnabas’ reflection in the mirror, past his own form, disguised under Barnabas’ clothes. They didn’t fit, but that was the point.

(None of this fit—that was the tragedy. Jonah was a boy in the guise of a girl, loving a boy, in a world that had made him name himself. He could only reconcile so many of those things before the whole charade went out from under him.)

“I know, angel,” Barnabas replied, coming up behind Jonah and pressing his palms against Jonah’s chest, flattening it out. “Do you want me to take this in for you?”

Jonah ducked his head. “I like it like this. I like to wear your shape.”

Barnabas nosed into Jonah’s neck, hands falling to his hips. “I like  _ your _ shape, Jonah.”

Jonah let himself be turned, looking up at Barnabas. Rough, needle-pricked thumbs brushed across his cheeks.

“You always look so sad, when you wear my clothes.” Barnabas murmured.

“It’s so close.” Jonah said, trying to meet Barnabas’ eyes and not quite managing it. He reached past him, one hand grasping, reaching… “It’s so close, I’m so  _ close _ to what I want, and…” his hand withdrew, settling to Barnabas’ hip. “And it’s just out of reach.”

If someone were to burst into the room, they would see a woman and a man. Her cradled in his arms, in his clothes, comforted by the shape of him.

“Let me help,” Barnabas said, as low as his voice could go and still be audible—or so Jonah thought, because then Barnabas’ voice dipped lower. “I love you so, sweet boy. Let me help.”

Jonah considered it. Considered linen binding his chest, men’s clothes made to his narrow frame. Living as though he were no different from any other man—softer, smaller, but a  _ man. _

“Just say the word, angel,” Barnabas said.

“Yes,” Jonah murmured, soft as prayer, arms winding around Barnabas’ waist. “ _ Yes. _ ”


End file.
